


I Like It Here

by luckie_dee



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M, Tentacle Sex, with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckie_dee/pseuds/luckie_dee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When waiter Darren Criss discovers that customer Chris Colfer is actually an extraterrestrial stationed on Earth to complete a suspicious mission, he sets out to change Chris's mind about going through with it. As Chris soon learns, Darren has a secret of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Like It Here

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** Tentacle sex, blowjobs, handjobs, rimming, fingering, anal, unprotected sex, something like comeplay. Also language and non-descriptive references to drug use, alien abduction, and medical experimentation on humans.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** Written for the Crisscolfer Big Bang and inspired by a conversation with [Mav](http://savvymavvy.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much to [Lindsey](http://controlofwhatido.tumblr.com/) for betaing (most of) the fic! ♥
> 
>  **Link to Artwork:** Check out the lovely artwork by [Tayler](http://innovatived.tumblr.com/) [here](http://innovatived.tumblr.com/post/132386261441/my-ccbb-piece-for-luckies-fic-i-like-it-here)! Thank you so much!! ♥

The guy is back. 

Darren hadn’t noticed the guy's arrival, but his glass of soda is still almost completely full when Darren _does_ see him, so he can’t have been there for _that_ long. It’s the fourth Thursday in a row that he’s come into the hotel restaurant, and he’s doing the same thing he’d done each of the previous times — scribbling on a notebook inside a portfolio stuffed with papers and sipping a Diet Coke. One time he’d had a sandwich. Grilled chicken with avocado, and Darren probably shouldn’t know that, because he’s never actually served the guy himself.

The whole thing is kind of weird, actually. Every time he’s in, the guy waits at a table by himself until a balding man wearing a steel gray suit and carrying a red-brown leather briefcase arrives. They exchange very few pleasantries, then the guy packs up his papers and signals for his check. As soon as it’s paid, they leave. Darren can’t help but be curious. _Espionage_? he wonders. _Drug deals? Escort? Shady political shit?_

One day, Darren happens (well, manages) to be standing near the big windows facing the lobby one when the guy and his — companion — leave the restaurant. They cross the lobby in silence, wait on opposite sides of the elevator doors, and then get in, headed up. Darren frowns. That doesn’t really allow him to cross any of those potential options off the list, and kind of bumps escort up to the top, since most of what’s upstairs is hotel rooms. Of course, drug deals and spy business and whatever else could all happen in hotel rooms too. 

Darren can't help himself; he’s getting fucking curious about it. He’s made up some pretty elaborate scenarios — except not about the escort thing, because the guy deserves to be sleeping with someone way hotter than the tweedy briefcase dude — and it’s sort of exciting that there might be spy shit or under-the-table political dealings going on before his very eyes. Of course, it’s Washington D.C., so there are probably shady deals going down on every other street corner, but it’s never happened at his place of work. And, Darren thinks, certainly not with someone who looks like the guy does, hot and sweet and innocent but also kind of devious all at once.

Which, he reflects as he gets back to work, is actually the perfect combination if your business is unethical political deals.

Or prostitution. It probably plays really well for prostitution too.

*

Darren isn’t terribly optimistic that The Guy will show up again — five Thursdays in a row seems like a lot to ask — but he keeps a watchful eye trained toward the front of the restaurant just in case, especially when it gets close to mid-afternoon. It pays off: like Darren had willed him into being, he sees The Guy approaching, in sunglasses and a pageboy cap, looking anything but incognito as far as Darren’s concerned. 

The Guy is still halfway across the lobby, so Darren skitters to the host station and leans over to put his mouth right next to Lydia’s ear. She jumps a mile when he hisses, “Seat the sunglasses and hat guy in my section and I promise I’ll get Dante to switch shifts with you on Saturday.” 

“There’s no way you can —” she starts.

But Darren cuts her off because there’s _no fucking time_. “Do you want to use those concert tickets or not?”

Lydia shoots him a dubious look, and he unleashes a pleading stare. “Do _not_ ,” she hisses.

“Please, Lyds.”

“Fine,” she whisper-snaps. “But someone is taking my shift on Saturday, and I don’t care if it’s Dante or you. Even if you _do_ get a date with Mr. Bad Disguise.”

“You’re the best,” he replies, and then he strides purposefully away, just in the nick of time.

Darren watches out of the corner of his eye while Lydia leads The Guy to a table, and he barely suppresses a happy wriggle when she follows through and puts him in Darren’s section. He runs an appetizer sampler to table three, bounces down to where The Guy is sitting, and announces himself cheerfully: “Hi! Welcome to The Atrium. My name is Darren, at your service. Have you dined with us before?”

The Guy has his leather portfolio tilted toward him against the edge of the table, completely obscuring its contents from Darren’s view. He glances up skeptically, and Darren’s pretty sure he’s been caught in his question-slash-lie, not that he really cares. It’s worth it to finally get a good, close-up look at The Guy. It’s a good fucking look. “Yeah,” The Guy finally says. “I have.”

“Great!” Darren exclaims, all innocence. “Then you’ve tried our crab cakes, right? Best thing on the menu and a favorite with our guests.” 

The Guy blinks at him. “No. I’ll just have a Diet Coke, thanks.” 

“Need a few minutes to look over the menu?” Darren asks, even though it’s sitting untouched at the edge of the table. 

“Just the Coke is fine,” The Guy says, his tone of voice clearly indicating that Darren is dismissed. So Darren retreats.

He’s comfortable admitting that it was an inauspicious start. Not his finest hour, or his finest work. Maybe The Guy has a _thing_ about overzealous waiters. Maybe an overzealous waiter murdered his parents, and his superhero alter ego is out for revenge, and Darren just put himself in grave danger. 

Or maybe it’s something simpler than that, like… maybe The Guy just doesn’t like guys, and doesn’t want to be hit on by one. Not that Darren had done any actual _hitting on_. Not yet, anyway, and maybe not at all if things didn’t improve.

When he brings the soda back, Darren sets it on the table with a flourish and, after The Guy’s muted _thanks_ , he asks, “Are you sure I can’t interest you in something to eat?”

“No thanks. You’ll still get a decent tip, if that’s what you’re worried about,” The Guy mutters.

Darren’s eyebrows shoot up, but he keeps it gallant when he responds. “Not at all! I just hate to leave a customer unsatisfied.” 

The Guy peers up over his glasses at Darren, which is actually pretty hot. “I’m perfectly satisfied with the Coke.”

“Well, would you be _even more_ satisfied with, say, some muenster cheese fries? Or a cranberry chicken salad, if you’re a healthy eater?” Darren arches his eyebrows and smiles.

He gets an incredulous look in response. Darren’s pretty sure that he’s about to be told to fuck off — and it wouldn’t be the first time, honestly, though definitely the first time at this job — when The Guy cocks his head thoughtfully. “Did you say muenster cheese fries?”

Darren’s grin spreads. “ _Not_ a healthy eater then. Yeah, they’re awesome. They’ve got some jalapeno, bacon, green onion —”

“I’ll try them,” The Guy interrupts. 

“Awesome!” Darren exclaims.

The guy is already bending back over his work. “Congratulations; you upsold me.” 

“Well, you’re not going to regret it.” He practically skips away to put the order in.

Darren has other tables to attend to, but he does swing by The Guy’s table to refill his Coke as soon as it’s even remotely feasible to do so. The Guy barely reacts. Darren thinks he catches a huff of breath, a small amused sound, but can’t even be sure that he really heard it. He brings the fries out a few minutes later, setting them grandly on the tabletop. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Nope,” The Guy says. “Thanks.”

This is where Darren is supposed to leave, but he doesn’t. He hovers, admiring the view, and finally asks, “Well? Are you going to try them?”

The Guy glances up. “Eventually, yes.”

“How about now?” 

“Are you this attentive with all your customers?” 

Fuck it. Darren’s going for it. It’s too late to do anything else because he’s already saying it: “Only the cute ones.” 

The Guy fixes him with a skeptical look, and Darren’s pretty sure that the _fuck you_ is finally forthcoming, but nope: “Are you hitting on me?”

“I might be,” Darren replies, hedging his bets until he has a better sense of the situation. 

“You don’t want to hit on me,” The Guy says, in a voice that brooks no opposition. He turns back to his papers. 

“Sorry, dude, are you — not into guys? Sorry.” 

The Guy’s pen scratches to a halt. “That’s — not exactly the problem.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” Darren replies knowingly. “You’re taken. Again, sorry dude.”

“Also not the problem,” The Guy says. He’s not working anymore, but he hasn’t lifted his head again either. 

Darren’s shoulders slump a little, because that really only leaves one option. “Just not into me, then. That is totally cool. I’ll let you enjoy your fries, and I’ll be back in a few minutes with your check.” 

The Guy sighs and drops his pen altogether. “I don’t even know you.” 

Darren perks up. That gives him something to work with, maybe. “Well, there’s only one way to fix that.”

“You really don’t want to hit on me,” The Guy repeats, but he sounds less strident. And Darren’s more than ready to back off — he’s not the kind of asshole who’s going to keep bothering someone if they’ve clearly said no — but the thing is, the guy _hasn’t_ clearly said no. He said that Darren doesn’t want to hit on him, which isn’t true, and he’s looking at Darren with an expression that’s now as curious as it is apprehensive.

“Okay,” Darren consents, “maybe I don’t. Maybe I just want to get to know you a little better. You already know my name. What’s yours?” 

The Guy looks deeply undecided, but after a beat he says, “I’m Chris.” 

*

They actually strike up — well, if not a friendship, then an acquaintanceship. The next two times Chris is in, they make small talk while he waits for the briefcase dude. Darren even times his break the following week to maximize their time together, to give them more of a chance to chat. 

Well, technically, it’s less _chatting_ than it is Darren prattling on about shit and Chris asking a few questions here and there. Or making a smartass comment every so often. Darren loves those. And it’s not like he has a problem talking about music or how he’s parlayed his geology degree into an extremely lucrative career waiting tables and volunteering at the Museum of Natural History. Upon reflection, he realizes that he hasn’t actually learned very much about Chris — just that he’s in town on business and it’s his first time in D.C. 

Then, a week later, Darren suddenly learns a lot more.

It starts when Darren saunters up behind Chris, sweating glass of Diet Coke in hand, already planning the start of some sure-to-be-brilliant repartee — when, for the first time, he catches sight of what Chris is writing in his notebook, and _all_ the words fly right out of his head. He even jolts to a stop, the soda sloshing dangerously. Chris clearly doesn’t know that he’s so close, and Darren just stares uncomprehendingly for a moment, blinking. He can’t believe what’s right in front of his own fucking eyes.

And he can’t just pretend that he didn’t see it. Not this — it’s too huge. Darren lets his shock and curiosity propel him forward in quick strides, right up next to Chris, and he leans in to hiss, “Holy fuck! That’s not an Earth language!”

Chris slaps the portfolio shut and whirls around, glaring at Darren with so much heat that it feels like Chris’s glasses should melt in between them. He looks scared though too, scared and stunned, the color draining from his face and then returning in a brilliant flush. “What did you just say?” 

“What _was_ that?” Darren continues, sidestepping Chris’s question. “Because it looked like Stellaen. Who _are_ you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Chris’s voice is firm, with only the slightest hint of shake. “It’s a form of Russian —”

Darren snorts. “Bullshit. I love languages. I’ve learned a little of, like —” he waves a hand “— a ton of them, including a bunch of Earth languages. And that is _not_ Russian.” 

And Chris just… stares, his eyes wide and his expression blank. Finally, after an interminable silence that Darren isn’t sure he’s going to be able to wait out, Chris whispers, “How do you know what it is?”

Well, shit. Darren clearly hadn’t thought this through (and truth be told, hadn’t thought much of _anything_ before he’d opened his mouth and blurted), because there’s no way he can explain that piece of knowledge away without exposing himself in the process. “We can’t have this conversation here,” he finally says in hushed tones. They really can’t. There’s a table of tourists, like, two feet away. 

“Maybe we should just forget about it,” Chris mutters. 

“Not happening. My shift ends at six, and then we are talking about this. Just tell me when and where.”

*

They agree to meet on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial long after dark. Darren is dubious as he walks up, not expecting Chris to even be there. It feels like some kind of scam or setup, but as he gets closer, he sees a lone, motionless figure at the bottom of the stairs, facing away from the monument and waiting. 

Chris turns when Darren approaches, and silently leads him to sit on the steps far off to one side, out of the way of the few tourists trickling by so late at night. They perch awkwardly, warily, looking out at the pale spire of the Washington Monument across the Tidal Basin. Darren sneaks a few peeks at Chris out of the corner of his eye, but Chris just keeps staring at the glow of the city lights, his face tense. 

Darren tries to wait Chris out, but he gets twitchier and twitchier until he _can’t_ stay quiet anymore. “So, uh —” he finally starts. “Why here? I’m sure there are a shit ton of other meeting places around D.C., and they’re probably a lot more convenient. We could’ve just asked some politician for the best one. Or a list of several hundred.” 

Chris ignores the joke. “I like it here. It reminds me of home. There was a lake with a city on the other side, and the buildings were made from big stone slabs.” 

There’s a significant pause that Chris does nothing to fill. “And home is…?” Darren prods.

Chris’s lips purse, then release. “Not here.”

Darren snorts. “That’s an understatement, wouldn’t you say?”

 _That’s_ what finally cracks Chris’s armor, and he swings his eyes toward Darren, narrowing them dangerously. “How did you know, anyway? If you’re going to blow my cover, I think you owe me at least that much.” 

“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Darren says quickly. “Who says I’m going to blow your cover?”

Chris just squints at him harder. “Aren’t you?”

And… yeah, maybe, but Darren’s not going to _say_ that. Because he totally could expose Chris, but the thing is — he’d really rather not cause some big intergalactic incident. He’s hoping to just bluff hard enough that he can scare Chris back to his own planet, because he’s pretty sure he knows why Chris is on Earth, and it would definitely be better if he would head back home. “Not necessarily,” Darren finally answers, after a pause. “But I’d like to know what you’re doing here before I decide.” 

“That’s classified,” Chris replies immediately. “Top secret.”

Darren shrugs. “Well, how badly do you want me to not blow your cover?” he asks. He feels kind of like a dick as he says it, but bluffing certainly isn’t going to work if he just acts all _nice_. 

Chris huffs and glances back across the water again, shaking his head minutely. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, and when he does, his words sound careful, measured. “I’m brokering a deal with the United States government.” He all but snaps his jaw shut when he’s done talking.

“For people?” Darren bites out, barely able to disguise the edge in his voice. He’d intended to lead into the topic with a little more finesse, but it’s what he’s afraid of and what he doesn’t want to hear. What makes him angry. “You’re brokering a deal to take people back and do — what? Fucking medical experiments?”

It’s obvious that he strikes a chord, because Chris visibly bristles, his body and his expression going tight. “It’s not like that,” he grits.

“Then what is it like?”

Chris looks even more annoyed, whether it’s _at_ Darren or because he gave away so much so easily, Darren isn't sure. “Why should I explain anything to you?”

“Because I can get your ass booted back to the Astrum Galaxy if you don’t.” It’s a largely empty threat, because Darren would still rather handle things quietly, but whatever the outcome is, he definitely doesn’t want Chris taking humans back to use as lab rats. 

It seems like Chris believes him though, given the way his shoulders slump. He doesn’t say anything right away, but something tells Darren that he should just actually shut the fuck up and wait for once. “It’s not just random medical experiments for fun,” Chris finally says, low. “Our biology is very similar to theirs. It’s how we learn.” 

“That’s what people say about fucking laboratory animals,” Darren retorts. “How can you live here with them, talk to them, and still be okay with that shit?”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay with it,” Chris says harshly. “We’re _dying_. There’s a disease, and the mortality rate is over sixty percent. One little mutation and it could wipe us all out. We have to find a way to cure it, or we’ll all be _dead_. Isn’t that enough reason to do what we have to do?”

Darren shakes his head, feeling frustration bubble in his chest. He starts to retort, but bites his lip when a middle-aged couple wearing matching fanny packs descends the stairs, a little closer than any of the other tourists had come. It gives him the chance to take a deep breath, and his voice sounds almost normal when he does speak. “If so many of you are sick, why don’t you just test cures on your own — people?”

“It’s not what our leaders want,” Chris says. At least there’s a tinge of reluctance in his voice. “Look,” he continues, “I know that we’re the cause of all the legends and the horror stories — the abductions, the… the _probes_ , whatever. But we haven’t done any of that for many, many Earth years. Our new leaders are much more… humane. And everything is legal now, completely above board, even if it’s still secret. We take criminals, transients, and people who are already terminally ill. And we really do treat them well! They’re fed good food, and they’re safe and comfortable.” 

“All of those people you just mentioned?” Darren asks pointedly. “They’re _people_. And no matter how well you treat them or what kind of gourmet food they get to stuff their faces with, you’re going to make them sick, and some of them are going to die, Chris. Fucking die. Most of them, probably. You don’t have a cure, right? And is it true that you just dump them out in space when you’re done with them? How is that treating them well?”

“That is _not_ true,” Chris shoots back. He looks like he’s stopping himself from saying more, and he eyes Darren warily. “How do you know _any_ of this anyway? How did you recognize our language?”

 _Shit_. Darren casts around for a believable excuse and comes up empty. And well, what the fuck? It doesn’t seem like Chris has a ton of respect for humans, so maybe he’ll trust Darren more if he knows the truth.

“Because,” Darren says, “I’m not exactly from around here either.”

Chris stares at him for several long seconds. “There’s no way you’re one of us,” he finally mutters, and it almost sounds more like he’s talking to himself than to Darren. “I’d know. I’d _know_.” Like he’s trying to _reassure_ himself. 

“I mean, technically I’m not _one of you_ ,” Darren clarifies. “Unless you’re just talking about extraterrestrials. Then yes, I am. But I’m not from Stellae.”

In a quick slide of emotions, Chris’s face goes from relieved to confused to suspicious. “Where _are_ you from? Arc-88? No, wait — Ehtenne?”

“Nope. Min Gefara.”

“Oh my god,” Chris groans, rolling his eyes and rocking back with his whole body. “And _you’re_ lecturing me about harming the humans?”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean? We don’t abduct them to do fucking experiments.”

Chris fixes him with a hard look. “How is stealing their fossil fuels any better? They’re wasting those all on their own. Can you imagine what’s going to happen when they’re gone? Haven’t you ever seen _Mad Max_?”

“The new one or the old ones?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well —”

Chris holds up a hand. “Never mind. This is why you volunteer at the museum, right? And the geology degree? It’s all research, so your people can swoop in here and suck it all out of the ground. That’s why _you’re_ here.”

Darren frowns. “Yeah, you know how you said _it’s not like that_? Hey, guess what? It’s not like that.” 

“Oh _please_ ,” Chris says, his voice hard. “Please elaborate about why you’re lecturing me over taking a few people away when you’re going to bankrupt the entire planet of natural resources and probably end up killing _all of them_.” 

With a wary eye on the few tourists still lingering, Darren shushes him. “You’re going to get their attention.”

“Then explain to me _in a whisper_ ,” Chris grits out through clenched teeth.

“Okay,” Darren consents, quietly. “You want to talk about a bankrupt planet? We’ve depleted ours of all but maybe three percent of the naturally-occurring mineral resources that we use for energy. We’re using wind and solar, but it isn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough. If we didn’t borrow from other planets, the majority of _our_ people are going to die.” 

“ _Borrow_ ,” Chris snorts. “Do you return it when you’re done with it?”

“Okay, no. But we don’t take _everything_ ,” Darren says, but even he knows that his voice sounds a lot less strident. He stares, not at Chris, but at his own hands clasped between his knees. 

After a moment of silence, Chris replies, “Neither do we.” He doesn’t sound so sure of himself either.

Darren finally pipes up again. “Look,” he starts, scrubbing one hand briefly over his face. “I’m not — I’m not proud of how I got here. I just signed up because I wanted to see the galaxy. Tour the fucking stars, whatever, shit. I was young and stupid, and I didn’t think about what it all meant. So I got this assignment, and here I am, doing it.” 

“Yeah, you seem really enthusiastic about it,” Chris says, clearly sarcastic, but it’s not as biting as Darren would have expected. 

“So do you,” Darren retorts.

Chris is silent for a long minute, so long that Darren looks over at him again. He’s focused out across the water again, his face softer, open… sad, Darren thinks. Or worried. Or both. “It doesn’t matter if I’m enthusiastic,” he finally replies. “It has to be done. I have to get it done.” 

“Do you?” Darren asks. Chris shoots him a sharp glare. “Seriously, do I? I mean, just a rhetorical question. Does anyone really _have_ to do anything?”

Rhetorical or not, Chris answers. “Yes. I do; you don’t. Just go raid a planet without people on it if you care so much about them.” 

Darren feels himself twitch a little, involuntarily. “There are other survey teams out there, but we’ve been planning this mission for-fucking-ever. Since before I was old enough to fly. And now I just have to submit my final scout report in a few months, and then everything happens, and then it’s over and we’re gone. The planning is already like… I don’t know, ninety-eight percent done. More, maybe? I can’t just _throw away_ the resources that have already gone into this.” 

Chris is still watching him evenly. “So you’re going to do your job, and I’m going to do mine. Are we done here?” 

“Maybe you don’t have to,” Darren says desperately. “I’m six Earth years into this fucking thing, but you haven’t been here that long, right? I mean, you’ve only been coming around the restaurant for a month or two, yeah?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Chris repeats evenly.

Darren angles his knees toward Chris. “Look, I know I’m being all fucking philosophical tonight, but don’t you? I know you were just giving me shit about caring so much about people, but why _don’t_ you have a choice? I mean, how can you have been here, living with them, and be okay with what you’re going to do?”

“I’ve been here for a _six weeks_ ,” Chris snaps, “and it’s not like I have a busy social life. I have my meetings. I file my reports. That’s it.”

“Which can’t take _that_ long. What do you do with the rest of your time?”

Chris shrugs. “Not much,” he says evasively. “I watch TV.”

And that’s exactly the kind of opening Darren was looking for. He seizes on it. “Do you like it?”

“What?” Chris asks suspiciously. “TV?” 

Darren nods.

Chris is still guarded as he answers. “Some of the shows are better than others.” 

“Well, they’re made by humans!” Darren says triumphantly. “By _people_. They create awesome shit and they do not deserve what you’re going to do to them.”

He expects that Chris is going to get pissed again, but he actually just looks kind of tired. “We’re not taking _those_ people. I already told you.”

“You can’t just decide which people are better than others,” Darren shoots back. 

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do you want me to do here? I can’t just go back and tell them that I didn’t close this thing.” 

And yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what Darren wants him to do, but he knows as well as anyone that it’s not that easy. He’s not even sure that Chris is really asking him for a solution, but he ponders the situation all the same — and has what he thinks is a pretty kickass idea. “How about this: you’ve got some free time, right? Let me show you some of the good shit about life on Earth. Then if you change your mind, I’ll help you figure everything out.”

The proposition is met with a sigh. “I’m not going to change my mind,” Chris says. 

“Then I’ll find some other way to get you sent packing.” Darren shrugs. “Tell my superiors that you’re here, maybe, and have them take you out. Or bust up one of your meetings so they don’t trust you anymore and you have to go home —” Chris blanches at that one, he notices “— or something else. I can probably come up with something more creative if you give me more time.” 

There’s a long pause, where Chris looks back out across the tidal basin, his face impassive but tight around the edges. “What do you suggest we do?” 

Darren’s breath catches a little because _holy shit it worked_ , but he plays it cool. “This isn’t about me making a suggestion. What do you want to do?”

Chris turns back to him then, wearing an absolutely incredulous look. “This is your big plan.”

“Yeah, but isn’t there something you want to do?” Darren asks. “You just said you watch a shit ton of TV. You never saw anything and thought _hey, I’d like to try that_?”

“What if it’s something _you_ don’t want to do?” 

Darren smirks. “There’s not much I wouldn’t be willing to try.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Chris says dryly, but he sounds different when he goes on, younger somehow and hesitant. “Okay, well… what about an amusement park? I think roller coasters look like they could be fun.”

“Awesome!” Darren exclaims. “That’s perfect. We’ll go to Six Flags, ride the Superman. Or whatever. When are you free? I only work a quick morning shift next Monday.”

Chris blinks at him. “Um… that would work.” 

“Awesome,” Darren repeats. He digs his phone out of his pocket. “Give me your number. I’ll call you and we can figure out the details. I’ve gotta get home and get some sleep, man. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You’re going to let me just — go?” Chris gingerly takes Darren’s phone and taps in a phone number. “How do you know I’m not going to just take off?”

“How do you know I haven’t already planted a tracker on you?” Darren volleys. He takes his phone back, taps the new number, and nods, satisfied, when Chris’s pocket vibrates. “We can find you anywhere on Earth, Chris, and way easier than any human could. I know it and you know it.”

Chris’s shoulders slump. “I know.”

“Okay then,” Darren says, pushing himself to his feet. “Have a good weekend, Chris. I’ll talk to you soon, and see you on Monday.”

“Yeah,” Chris replies, his voice clipped. 

Darren slides his hands into his pockets and ambles away, not bothering to look back. 

*

Much to Darren’s surprise, Chris answers when he calls, and they make plans to meet outside the hotel where Darren works. He’s surprised again to find Chris already waiting, looking surly behind his sunglasses. Despite his best bluffing, Darren had still considered Chris to be a major flight risk. And if not a flight risk, then a tattling risk. Maybe Chris is just planning to push him out of a moving roller coaster or something. 

If that’s the case, his plan is totally going to be foiled when he sees the safety measures at the park. Darren grins at him. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Chris says, less enthusiastically. 

“Ready to go?” Darren rocks forward onto his toes, then back onto his heels.

Chris pushes himself away from the wall and they amble toward the parking ramp, which Darren gets to use for free as an employee — but usually doesn’t because the Metro is faster and easier. He’s not excited about battling traffic out to Bowie, but it should still be faster than two awkward hours on public transportation. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Chris responds dryly. 

The ride to the car is uncomfortably quiet. Darren sings along to the radio and drums on the steering wheel for a while, just like he usually does, but he's silenced by an incredulous side-eye from Chris, and he feels too weird to start up again after that. It's a relief to pull into the parking lot.

Once they’ve paid their admission and made it through the front gates, Darren looks over at Chris expectantly. “What do you want to do first?”

Chris shrugs, even though he’s looking around with some interest. “I don’t care. This field trip was your idea. You pick.”

“Maybe it was my idea for you to try some human shit, but you’re the one who wanted to ride a roller coaster,” Darren counters. “ _You_ pick.” 

He holds out the park map, but Chris waves it off. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, and then points at some looping orange track toward the center of the park. “That one looks tall.”

Darren _does_ unfold and consult the map. “I think that’s the Apocalypse. C’mon,” he instructs, leading the way. 

It’s early enough that the line isn’t _terrible_ , and that's good, because Chris doesn’t say much while they’re standing in it, which is kind of awkward. The ride is a standing-up one, with rows of four, and Chris and Darren end up about halfway back. Chris stays silent as they climb slowly toward the top of the first hill. Darren glances over at him. “Nervous?”

Chris shoots him a look. “It’s not really that exciting after space travel, is it?” 

“I guess we’ll see,” Darren retorts, a hint of the irritation he’s feeling bleeding into his voice. And fuck it, so Chris is going to be blasé about the experience — Darren’s going to enjoy himself. As they pull forward and tip over the precipice, Darren grips the metal handles, beams, and lets out a whoop. Just before he does, he hears a sudden, sharp intake of breath from Chris, and he grins all the harder. 

The ride is two minutes long, and Darren shouts and laughs through every curve and corkscrew. It is something like space travel, like the launch of a ship, but nothing like the smooth sail of his vessel once he’s out of a planet’s gravitational pull. Still, it’s not quite the same as blasting off either; it’s not linear, or routine, or predictable. It’s exhilarating, and when they’re pulling back into the station, he looks over to see Chris — for the first time since Darren’s known him — with a shit-eating grin on his face. And because Darren can’t help himself, he exclaims, “That was awesome!” 

Chris schools his expression into something a little less enthusiastic, but he still looks a touch giddy when he replies. “Yeah, yeah, okay. That was fun.”

“Better than taking off in your — uh, your airplane?” Darren asks, rephrasing himself quickly when they draw to a stop next to one of the park employees. 

Some of the excitement in Chris’s face dims. “Is this an I-told-you-so? Nobody likes an I-told-you-so.”

Darren shrugs as they exit the ride. “Don’t think of it like that, man. Think of it as me being really fucking happy that you enjoyed it so much.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” Chris cautions him. “In the grand scheme of things.”

“No,” Darren agrees. “But maybe the next one will.” 

*

It’s an optimistic point of view, and one that doesn’t pan out as they test more coasters, but that's okay. It’s not like Darren had really expected a few thrill rides to make Chris change his mind completely. 

He also hadn’t expected to honestly just have a shit ton of fun.

Chris loosens up a little bit more after every ride, and as it turns out, Chris loosened up is witty without the bite, interesting to talk to, and generally awesome to hang out with. When he notices that Darren keeps a tight hold on the handrails on every roller coaster, he throws down the challenge of keeping their hands in the air for the duration of the ride on the park’s tallest, fastest coaster. Despite his best efforts, Darren doesn’t even make it through the first drop, and Chris needles him playfully afterward, when they take a break to sip lemonades on a bench near one of the wooden roller coasters, which rattles by at regular intervals.

“Have you ever been to Foeda?” Chris asks conversationally, turning his eyes to the track overhead after Darren shakes his head _no_. “I did part of my training there. The gravity, the storms — getting out of there is like trying to fly a paper plane through a tornado. You wouldn’t survive unless you had oh shit handles in your cockpit,” he adds, and Darren sees the corner of his mouth tilt up.

It’s teasing, Darren knows, and it’s so much like flirting that he suddenly feels an echo of those early days, when Chris was just the cute customer at the restaurant that Darren wanted to strike up a conversation with. He’s been largely ignoring that part of his brain (or… whichever other body parts might be involved), but he lets his gaze slide down behind his sunglasses to take in Chris’s well-muscled calves, extended out in front of them towards the sidewalk. Chris is wearing a thin t-shirt in the heat, and it’s tight enough to hint at the definition in his arms and chest, and look, Darren may be doing his best to ignore it, but he’s not _blind_ , okay? And he wouldn’t fucking want to be, with all of that to look at. 

“Oh, we do,” Darren replies glibly, swirling his sweating lemonade cup. “Specially designed and engineered to calm the fears of one Geoscience Agent Criss. The GeoCriss Shit Grips.” 

Chris snorts. “That sounds like a really gross tongue twister.” 

“The Holy Fuck Handgrips?” Darren suggests. “The Oh Shit Shafts?”

“Oh my god,” Chris mutters, then stands abruptly. “Come on, let’s do the Batwing again. If you think you can handle it.”

Darren bounces to his feet. “Oh, I can handle it,” he says, unable to keep the suggestion out of his voice. 

He expects the exaggerated eye roll he gets. He _doesn’t_ expect Chris to say, “If you’re holding a shaft?” and nearly chokes on the dregs of his lemonade. 

“Kudos to you,” Darren says when he recovers. “You saw the opportunity, and you took it. And just for the record, I’m not opposed to holding shafts.” 

“Well, lucky for you there are good ones on the Batwing.” Chris tosses his glass into a nearby trashcan. “Let’s go see how good your grip is.” 

*

Even though Chris’s new found enthusiasm for roller coasters seems nearly inexhaustible, they eventually do grab an overpriced meal and leave the park. A not-nearly-as-uncomfortable silence reigns in the car as they pull out of the lot, which Darren breaks by commenting, “So, you seemed like you had fun.” 

Chris immediately goes on the defensive. “That doesn’t change anything,” he all but snaps. “I’m here to do a job, and I’m going to do it.”

“Hey, hey,” Darren says placatingly, “take it easy. I didn’t say anything about that. Just said that it seems like you had fun today.”

He glances briefly over, taking in the tightness around Chris’s mouth and the stiff line of his shoulders, which relaxes minutely as some of the tension releases from his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah,” Chris finally replies, but he still sounds wary. “I did.” 

“So did I,” Darren chirps. “I’m glad we decided to do this.”

“Decided?” There’s a definite note of incredulity in Chris’s voice, which, okay, might be warranted. “You basically blackmailed me into this little excursion.” 

“I guess. But you had fun, and I had fun, so what’s the harm?”

Chris is silent for a few moments. “I’m here on a mission,” he says, less confidently. “Not to be gallivanting off to theme parks with agents from _Min Gefara_.” 

“Did I not make a good theme park companion?” Darren challenges him. “Regardless of my fucking planet of origin?” 

“I suppose you were all right,” Chris responds, grudgingly. “Even though you couldn’t make it through a whole ride without grabbing the oh shit handles.”

“Oh shit shafts,” Darren corrects him, and Chris snorts, but doesn’t say anything more. After a minute or two, Darren speaks up again. “You know, Chris, I’m here on a mission too, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had some fun while I’m here. There’s a lot to enjoy.”

Chris lets out an aggrieved-sounding sigh. “I’m not here to, to — _hang out_. Maybe this just isn’t that important to you, but it’s really, really important to me to get this done, okay? You have no idea how important it is, so can we just shut up about it already?”

“Look, Chris, I’m not trying to be a dick here, but I’m not bringing it up — you are. I’m just trying to tell you that I had a really fucking good time today, and I think you had a good time too. And if that is in fact the case, then I was going to see if you wanted to hang out again sometime. That’s it. No ulterior motives.” 

There’s a moment of stunned silence, punctuated only by the noise of the road and the cars and the radio playing quietly in the background. “Oh,” Chris says quietly. “You’re serious? No ulterior motives?”

For the most part, Darren _is_ serious about it. He does want to hang out with Chris — and he’s pretty open to what the definition of _hang out_ ends up being. At the same time, he’s not going to give up hope that Chris might change his mind about his whole human-stealing mission, but clearly, the way to get him to reconsider isn’t by arguing the topic to death. If that’s a lucky side effect of exposing Chris to some of the more awesome parts of life on earth, then so be it. “Nah, I just think you’re a pretty cool dude,” he answers, his hands easy and relaxed on the wheel. “Even if you are from Stellae.” 

He can almost _feel_ Chris’s eye roll. “ _Min Gefara_ ,” he mutters under his breath, and then says, louder, “Well, what else is there to do down here anyway?” 

Darren perks up immediately. “Oh man, so fucking much. You like music? Concerts — we’ve gotta get you to a concert. Plays, too. Musical theater. And movies, since you like TV so much. I don’t know if you’ve watched a lot of movies? Or seen any in the theater? Oh, and the _food_ , Chris; have you tried all their fucking food? Shit, there are so many kinds. Have you ever had a really good beer? Or a taco?” He cuts himself off when he realizes Chris is chuckling beside him. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Chris says. “You’re just really… enthusiastic.” 

“I like it here!” Darren exclaims with a grin. “I think I’m fucking lucky that this is where I ended up. I could be wasting away on some ice planet somewhere, but instead I get to hang out here and enjoy music and Broadway and, shit — everything. Harry Potter and pizza and weed and _everything_.”

Chris nods. “I started reading the first Harry Potter book,” he comments, like it’s some deep, dark confession. 

“And?” Darren prompts. 

“It was really good, so I finished it in less than two days and started the next one,” Chris admits.

“Yes!” Darren crows — he practically shouts it because he can’t help himself. “Oh god, you’re going to love them so much, Chris. Seriously. Did you watch the movie?” 

“No. Not yet anyway. I’m sure I will some day.” 

Darren shakes his head. “Some day is going to have to be, like, tomorrow. I mean it. I’ll bring over Chinese food or something — have you tried it? — or pizza. And we are getting our Harry Potter on.” 

Chris side-eyes him. “Why does everything you say sound like some disgusting come-on?” 

“Why, Christopher,” Darren says innocently, “I have no idea what you mean. You must have a pretty dirty mind to read something into everything I say.”

“Right,” Chris replies. “I’m sure that’s what the problem is here. Not the fact that you’re making everything sound like innuendo.”

“It’s probably a little from column A, a little from column B,” Darren allows. “So, Harry Potter tomorrow? You can come to my place if you don’t want to give up your secret location.”

The air in the car is suddenly uncomfortable. “I can’t tomorrow,” Chris says, crossing his arms again. “I have some reports to file. Deadlines.” 

_Shit_ , Darren swears to himself. He’d been doing so well, and he tries to retrieve some of the easy back-and-forth they’d had going on. “That’s cool. What does work for you?”

“Um… Friday?” Chris offers. “Unless that doesn’t work for you? Or if you want to do something more exciting than hang out and watch children’s movies on a Friday night.” 

“I would like nothing better,” Darren says gallantly. “And I work until four, but I’m wide open after that. And hey, if you finish the second book by then, we can watch the first two!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Chris smile, just a little. “Deal.” 

*

The next few weeks are fun. 

He and Chris _do_ watch the first two Harry Potter movies with pizza and beer. He drags Chris to a free concert put on by one of his buddies from college, and pays for tickets to _Beauty and the Beast_ because fuck it, he likes Disney and he wants Chris to see a musical on stage. He coaxes Chris into trying Chinese food, and Indian food, and Mexican food, and sushi, and pot. He doesn’t seem to give much of a shit about the last one, so Darren lets it drop. It doesn’t matter — there are plenty of other things for them to do, like watch more movies than anyone should in such a short period of time. 

They talk, mostly about the movies they’re watching and all the music that Darren is forcing Chris to listen to. It’s mostly noncontroversial shit, until they get to know each other a little bit better. 

Then, one evening, while they’re waiting for their pad thai to be delivered, Chris motions to the TV, which happens to be showing the news, not by their choice, but just because it’s on. “Have you heard about this?” he asks.

Darren glances at the screen. It’s some bombing, somewhere halfway across the globe, and yeah, it’s fucking terrible. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s fucking shit, man. It’s such shit.” 

“Eloquently put,” Chris quips, “but accurate.”

“Thanks.”

Chris is quiet for a moment, but Darren can tell he wants to say something more. Finally, he spits it out: “This is what you’re trying to protect?”

It dawns on Darren that it’s not just small talk: this is an _important_ conversation, and he needs to tread very carefully. “Well,” he says, “no. Not _that_ , specifically. People do some really shitty things to each other.”

“They really do,” Chris interjects, like he’s been just waiting to point it out. “Every day on the news it’s just — murder and rape and terrorism and politicians talking shit, protecting their own interests instead of looking out for the people they represent.”

“I know,” Darren says. “I know. But… that’s not all that humanity is. It’s got it’s fucked up parts; I would never deny that. The news though — it only focuses on those fucked up parts. Or they have thirty seconds at the end about the good stuff. People are responsible for art and literature and music too, and most of them are just like the ones we see every day. Going to their jobs, going home, trying to make a good life for themselves and their families.” 

“If you don’t deny that there are some shitty humans out there, why do you care if we take a few of them to save an entire planet?” Chris asks. His voice is strained, almost desperate. 

Darren sighs. “That’s _not_ who you’re taking though. You’re taking, like, drifters and sick people. They’re not evil, and they might have family and friends who are going to miss the shit out of them when they’re gone.” 

“I’m trying to structure the deal so that we avoid taking people with families,” Chris protests. “As much as we can, anyway. And some of them _are_ criminals who are serving time.”

“For what, possession? Because, don’t get me started on that bullshit. But seriously, who decides who goes? Is it you? Do you get to hand pick ‘em?”

Chris looks trapped, and he breaks eye contact with a huff of breath. “No. My contacts here do. The ones who are brokering the deal.” 

“Oh yeah,” Darren snorts. “Because I trust a bunch of asshole _politicians_ — or their shady henchmen, whatever — to not just dump you with a bunch of people they want to get rid of.” 

They’re interrupted, sharply, by the buzzer.

“Food’s here,” Chris mutters unnecessarily.

Darren scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. Look — let’s just… let’s just table this discussion and eat and go, yeah? I feel like we’re talking in circles, and we’re going to miss the movie if we keep this up.” 

“Sounds like a plan to me.” 

That night is a little awkward. 

*

They aren’t all, though, not by a long shot. Because, as Darren comes to realize, they actually have become friends. Really good friends, and fast. It’s been a month and a half, maybe, and not a day goes by that they don’t talk or text. It’s unusual if they don’t hang out two or three times a week. Chris must relocate his clandestine government powwows — which is probably for the best; it would just piss Darren off to see it happening — but he comes into the restaurant sometimes to grab a meal and chat with Darren on his break. 

Darren knows a lot more about Chris now too, like that he has family back on his planet, his parents and a younger sister. And that he’s still a little jumpy during thunderstorms, after his time on Foeda. And that he’s gorgeous and smart and sarcastic, and despite the fact that Darren hates what Chris is on Earth to do, he’s completely and totally fucked, and he’s having a harder and harder time not doing anything about it. 

*

So he asks Chris about it. They’re having a drink at a jazz club, waiting for the singer to start. 

“Do you think humans are attractive?” 

Chris chokes on his appletini. “You mean like…?”

“I mean like, attractive,” Darren repeats, watching his reaction in a way that’s probably too intent. It actually looks like Chris is blushing a little, but it’s hard to tell in the low light. Or maybe it’s just the booze. Or the fact that some of it just went down his windpipe. “Beautiful. Sexy. Whatever.”

“I don’t know,” Chris says. He recovers himself enough to take a sip of his drink that goes down the way it’s supposed to. “Do you?” 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Darren replies, like maybe his enthusiasm will help Chris admit the same. Maybe it will. “Very attractive.” 

Chris nods slowly, staring down into his glass. “I think do too.”

“Men or women?” Darren asks, and the question might be too quick to come off as just conversational.

“Um,” Chris says, “…men. I think. What about you?”

“Both,” Darren replies immediately, and Chris’s eyebrows tick up. “I mean, there are a lot of beautiful people out there, you know?”

“I guess so.” Chris pauses to sip his martini again. “And I’m also guessing that you’ve acted on that attraction before.” 

Something about the assumption irks Darren, although he’s not sure why, and it’s not wrong. “What makes you say that?”

Chris shrugs. “You’ve been on Earth for six years, and I know you’re not exactly opposed to trying things while you’re here. Why wouldn’t you?” 

Okay, all of that is fair, and Chris doesn’t sound very judgmental about it. “I have,” Darren concedes, relaxing, “and I’m not going to lie — it’s good. It’s really, really good, and I kind of understand why everyone here is so obsessed with it. Is it something you want to try before you go back?”

Despite the conversation, Chris seems surprised by the question, and he’s saved from answering it by a burst of applause as the singer takes the stage. As she starts to croon, he just looks over at Darren and shrugs slowly. 

Their gazes catch. And hold. 

Then drop.

But Darren feels the flush of it for much longer.

*

It doesn’t take long for the subject to come up again. Darren doesn’t even really _mean_ to ask, but he does. They’re watching _Bull Durham_ on the couch at Darren's apartment, so he’s ruminating about _slow, deep, wet, soft kisses_ , and he blurts it out: “Do you have kissing on your planet? I was surprised when I got down here and that shit was pretty much the same. It’s better here though. Less formal.” _Messier and hotter and less restricted by weird societal boundaries_ , actually, and Darren likes all those things, but _less formal_ covers it well enough. 

“No, not really,” Chris answers, shifting a little. He’s flopped against the back of the couch with his feet up beside Darren’s on the coffee table. “We have ways that we show physical affection, but that’s not one of them.” 

“No shit?” Darren asks. “I’ve always liked it.” Chris doesn’t respond, but Darren finds that he doesn’t want to let the topic fall by the wayside. Let it never be said that he’s not opportunistic. “Do you want to try?”

That turns Chris’s head, and his expression is a strange blend of curiosity and wariness. “What?”

“Kissing’s a human thing, right?” Darren says. “Well, apparently it’s a Min Gefara thing too, but not a Stellae thing. Anyway, fuck, forget that. We’re trying to get you all kinds of human experiences, right? And kissing is one of them.”

“Kissing isn’t even universal across all humans,” Chris argues. 

Darren hadn’t actually been aware of that, and he pauses. “…wait, really? How do you know?”

“A documentary, I think?” Chris replies with a shrug. “I watch a lot of TV.”

“Okay, well, not every culture has pizza and roller coasters, but you like those,” Darren points out, not letting the momentary setback deter him for long. “Unless you really don’t want to. I’m not some creep who’s going to force you into it.” 

Chris is still leaning back against the couch, his head tilted toward Darren. It would be really easy to just go for it, but Darren isn’t about to sneak attack him either. “Yeah, I’ll try it,” Chris finally says, his voice carefully casual. “Might as well see what all the fuss is about.”

Darren feels his pulse accelerate accordingly. “Really? Because you put up quite a fight.”

“That was _not_ a fight. If I were fighting, you’d know it,” Chris retorts, his eyes sparking, and _fuck_ , he’s attractive, and he’s letting Darren show him what a kiss is, so why exactly are they still talking about it?

“Okay,” Darren says, and leans in.

He goes in slow at first, and careful, pressing a gentle kiss to Chris’s lower lip. Chris doesn’t respond right away, but when Darren tries again, he feels Chris returning the pressure, and he lets out a _whoosh_ of breath he didn’t realize he was holding while goosebumps prickle his arms. He kisses Chris again, again, gentle to start, then more intently with parted lips, daring to drag his tongue along the seam of Chris’s. His breathing is already ragged, and Chris’s doesn’t sound much better.

It all blends together after that, the kisses smearing into one long chain with their mouths sealed together, never retreating enough to really break contact. Darren raises one hand and clutches Chris around the base of his skull, fingers digging into Chris's scalp as he tilts Chris's head to a better angle. He lets his tongue sweep between Chris’s lips, touching Chris’s, coaxing it out, and Chris makes a pleasured noise that buzzes against Darren’s mouth. His hand clamps onto Darren’s wrist, and then he’s giving as good as he’s getting, a little clumsy at first but so, so good. Darren feels hot, sexy-hot and fevered-hot, like he’s going to burn from the inside out with how _good_ it is. 

He groans and scoots his whole body closer, drawing in harsh breaths and touching Chris with both hands now, and Chris is touching him back. Darren has no idea how long they’ve been at it, but it’s not just kissing anymore; it’s making the _fuck_ out, panting and pawing, and Darren’s more than interested in taking it further if Chris is okay with the idea. There’s been something sizzling between them for weeks. 

“Sex is a human thing,” Darren gasps, yanking his mouth back. He dips down, pants against Chris’s neck, and mouths words into his skin. “I mean, it’s an animal thing and an alien thing too, but you should try doing it the human way.” He lifts his head again and watches Chris’s face as his eyes tilt open. “If you want to.”

“To further my human education?” he asks, and Darren doesn’t miss the note of sarcasm in his voice. Or the way it’s all breathy and rough. 

“Maybe not just that,” Darren permits, and the only lie is that it doesn’t have anything to do with Chris’s human education at all. Darren thinks humans are beautiful, and fuck if Chris isn’t one of the best that Darren’s ever seen, even if he’s not strictly _human_ human. And he’s looking at Darren with damp, parted lips and mussed-up hair and reddened skin all the way down to the collar of his shirt and yeah, he’s fucking attractive and Darren just wants to do this. Fuck it all, he _likes_ Chris too, no matter how improbable and messed up it is, and how little chance there is of pursuing an actual relationship. 

Chris watches him inscrutably. “Sex the human way,” he finally says. “Okay.” 

Darren’s already-full cock twitches its approval, and he barely gets out a murmured _okay_ as he drops his mouth back down onto Chris’s, meeting Chris wet and open as he tries to pull himself closer. It’s not enough, so he scrambles up, slings one leg over Chris’s lap, and straddles him with a muffled groan. Chris’s hands go tight around his waist, then slide up his back, and Darren uses one arm against the back of the couch to steady himself while he cups Chris’s neck in the opposite palm. “Fuck, Chris, fuck,” he gasps in between kisses. “What do you want to do? Fuck, I have wanted to do this.”

“What do _you_ want to do?” Chris answers, even though that’s not really an answer.

Darren seals their lips together and swirls his tongue into Chris’s mouth before he pulls back to respond. “Fuck, anything. You could fuck me. Or I could fuck you, if you’d rather do it that way. We could suck each other off — one at a time, or together. Handjobs. Seriously, anything. Rimming, fuck my face, I don’t care. I want you.”

Just listing all the options has Darren almost painfully hard, but Chris just looks kind of overwhelmed. “Uh… that’s a lot of choices.”

“Mmm,” Darren hums, as he leans in to lick and then nip Chris’s ear before he murmurs into it, “What have you thought about?” He messily kisses over the hinge of Chris’s jaw while he waits for the answer.

“I think… actually fucking,” Chris says as he tilts his head to give Darren better access. “I’m curious.” 

“Fuck, yeah.” Darren pulls himself back and waits for Chris to look at him. “I’ll blow you and then you should top me, okay?” 

Chris’s eyebrows shoot up and he squirms a little under Darren’s weight. It bumps them together, and Darren can feel that Chris is rock-hard too. “I am — not opposed to that. Are you sure you don’t want to — to top?” 

“If you want me to,” Darren says with a one-shouldered shrug. “I like it either way, but you haven’t done this before, right? Not since you’ve been here, anyway.”

“Right,” Chris replies reluctantly.

Darren nods wisely. “Sometimes it can be less, um — intimidating? To be on top your first time.”

The expression on Chris’s face has gone suspicious. “Exactly how much sex have you had since you’ve been on Earth, anyway? You sound like some kind of… sex guru.”

 _That_ makes Darren lean back and snort out a laugh. “Geoscience Agent Criss, Sex Guru Extraordinaire. Um, my fair share, I guess. More than a little, less than a lot? But I learned that tidbit during my Earth training — I had a whole unit on sex ed. Didn’t you?”

“Uh, no,” Chris replies. “I’m only supposed to be here for six or eight months, and it’s for work. I don’t think anyone really anticipated me seducing the natives.” It feels like a loaded statement, and Darren files it away but doesn’t pursue it. 

Instead, he leans back in, teases his way back up Chris’s long, pretty neck, and purrs, “Well then, aren’t you lucky you met a boy from Min Gefara?” 

Chris makes a derisive little nose, but his voice is breathy when he speaks. “And you know what they say about boys from Min Gefara.”

“Mmhmm,” Darren rumbles into Chris’s jaw, which seems to be exceptionally sensitive. “They are _excellent_ fucks and give _fantastic_ head.” He leaves Chris’s throat to kiss his lips, finds them open and waiting and plunges his tongue in, but only to draw Chris’s back into his own mouth to demonstrate just how good he is at sucking something. When he releases it, Chris’s chest is heaving against his own. “And yes,” Darren continues, running one hand down from Chris's shoulder, brushing his fingertips over a peaked nipple, “I want to do it this way. I want to feel you —” he presses his palm into Chris’s cock through his jeans, and _fuck_ , he feels good, big and so hard even after the conversation took some of the desperate edge off “— oh fuck, I want to feel _all_ of you filling my ass right up.” 

Chris’s hips rock up off the couch into Darren’s touch. He groans, then asks, “Was seduction part of your sex training too?” 

Darren chuckles. “No, that’s just me and my big mouth. Speaking of which, I gotta blow you first, okay?” 

“You gotta?”

“Yes,” Darren says, pushing back far enough to start tugging at Chris’s t-shirt. He gets the hint and releases Darren to pull it off, and Darren takes the opportunity to get rid of his too. As soon as his hands are free, he runs them up Chris’s stomach, then farther, using his thumbs to tease Chris’s nipples. “When you’re inside me, I want you to last.” He kisses Chris hard, pressing their bare chests together, Chris’s hot skin up against his hot skin and he loves it, but it’s not accomplishing the goal of getting Chris’s cock in his mouth, so he backs off much, much sooner than he’d like. Carefully, he slides to the floor between Chris’s parted knees, pushing them apart as he goes and shoving the coffee table gracelessly out of the way. “Yeah?” he asks.

Chris’s hands are already at his own belt buckle, working it free. “Yeah,” he says, and lifts his ass to scoot his jeans and underwear down. They’re both clumsy trying to get them all the way off, and Darren bumps the edge of the coffee table painfully with one shoulder, but then he’s got Chris sitting naked and hard on his sofa, so it’s more than worth it. And he _is_ big, just the right kind of big — a little thick, a little long — and Darren just can’t fucking wait. So he doesn’t. 

He leans forward, his hands steady on Chris’s tense thighs, to nuzzle right into the side of his erection, dragging up the length with loose, damp lips. Chris sucks in a breath, then hisses it back out, along with a whispered _fuck_ as Darren continues to explore, swiping gently with his tongue now too. Darren can feel Chris's muscles trembling, and he releases one leg to lift Chris’s cock so he can suckle the head, which he does eagerly, tasting the tang of precome. The angle is better to take Chris into his mouth and down his throat too, and that's what he does next, humming and grunting around the thick intrusion. 

“Holy shit,” Chris groans. “Holy _shit_.” One of his hands clamps suddenly onto the back of Darren’s head, and Darren makes an affirmative noise to encourage it. Chris is rolling his hips in aborted little thrusts and pulsing on Darren’s tongue, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be long, which is exactly what Darren has in mind. 

He eases Chris back out of his throat and goes to town, bobbing his head and sucking, tonguing while he jerks the base of Chris’s cock with his fist. Normally, he might try to keep a few tricks in the bag for next time, but hey — next time might not even be a thing, so he’s going all fucking out. It works like a charm, too: Chris gasps, bucks up, and shoots suddenly into Darren’s mouth with a strangled, agonized noise. There's no real warning, so some of it drips back out of Darren’s mouth before he can do anything about it. The rest he swallows down thirstily — it tastes just like anyone else’s — before he let’s Chris’s cock slide slickly back out from between his lips. 

“All right,” Chris pants out. “Okay. That’s a blowjob.” 

“Yup,” Darren says, voice rasping. “That is a blowjob.” He swipes the back of one hand over his mouth, then turns to press a kiss into Chris’s inner thigh before he sits back. “You like?”

Chris manages to give him a _look_ , and Darren’s oddly glad that the orgasm hasn’t robbed Chris of his ability to do so. “Yeah, you could say that.” 

“Good.” Darren climbs back up and carefully straddles one of Chris’s thighs, being careful not to put his knees too close to anything important. “You’re gonna like fucking me even better.” 

“Give me a couple minutes to recover, maybe,” Chris suggests, from where he’s still flopped uselessly against the back of the couch. 

Darren huffs out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose,” he drawls, hovering over Chris, then uses one hand to bring Chris's head forward. Darren meets him with a kiss, chaste for the briefest of seconds before it turns dirty again. 

Chris breaks away, just long enough to ask, “What about you?” before he seals their lips back together. He rubs over Darren’s straining, frustrated erection and Darren shudders. 

“We can worry about me when we fuck,” Darren reassures him, batting his hand away. “Speaking of which, we can do it here, or you’re welcome to join me in the bedroom. There’s more space, but it’s up to you. I’m sure we can get creative with the couch if we stay here.” 

“I think,” Chris says, and his eyes glint, “the bedroom.”

*

Darren’s at the end of his patience when Chris finally does slide home, after Chris jerks him for a while and Darren shows Chris how to finger him open. He’s face down, hugging a pillow, ass in the air, and Chris is finally, _finally_ inside. Chris feels bigger still, bigger than when he’d been in Darren’s mouth, and his hands rest shaky on Darren’s hips. 

“Chris,” Darren moans. “Fuck. Move.” 

Chris draws back, pushes in, and it’s too slow and not anywhere near enough.

“Harder,” Darren says.

Chris chokes out an _okay_ , pulls out until just the head of his cock is still breaching Darren’s body, and thrusts back in. Harder.

“Yeah, Chris. _More_.” 

Gripping Darren's hips with more certainty, Chris strokes in again, then again, settling into a rhythm. Darren shoves back against him, encouraging Chris to go faster, and he does, driving them steadily higher, _fucking_ Darren, until Darren has to pull his own cock while Chris pounds into his body, and they both tip over into a fierce release. 

*

“So,” Chris says, once his breathing is back under control, “that’s how humans do it.” He’s sprawled on his back next to Darren, who’s prostrate on the mattress, panting. 

“One of them anyway,” he replies, then adds, hopefully: “There are plenty of others we can try. If you want.” 

Chris makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan that Darren can’t quite decipher. “Give me a couple hours, at least.” 

Darren chuckles. From where he’s lying, there’s not much to see beyond Chris’s armpit, so he can’t judge Chris’s expression, but he sounds loose and comfortable. Which he should be after coming that hard, twice. For his part, Darren feels like he was dropped off a building. “Okay, so we go again in two hours. Got it.” 

“Oh my god, Darren — you’re not a sex addict, are you? Can an alien be a human sex addict?” 

“Maybe I’m the first one,” Darren suggests. He scootches closer and kisses Chris’s shoulder. “Maybe you’re _making_ me one.”

Chris lets out a huff of a laugh. “Bullshit. How many humans have you slept with again? You never really answered that question.” 

Darren shrugs the shoulder that’s not smushed into the bed. “I haven’t really kept track. I don’t know, man, it’s just — so much different than back home. I probably, uh, over-enjoyed myself when I first got here.” 

“Really?” Chris asks. He sounds intrigued. “How do you do it back on Min Gefara?”

“Procreation is basically nonsexual,” Darren says, cuddling more firmly into Chris’s side. “Not asexual, but I mean, there’s no contact. The females of our species have their gametes, and the males have theirs, and if a female wants to procreate, she creates a reproductive sac —” 

“— I’m so turned on right now,” Chris interjects, deadpan.

“— and the male basically just _injects_ his shit into the sac and _ba da bing_ , fertilization. So the Earth way is a lot more fun.”

“It sounds like it.” Chris scratches his fingers into Darren’s hair and down against his scalp, and Darren hums happily. “I guess I don’t blame you.”

“What about you? How do Stellaens get freaky?”

Chris’s muscles tighten almost imperceptibly, but Darren can’t help but notice it, being so close. “Um, we have extra appendages. Two of them are sexual organs.” 

He sounds really uncomfortable saying it, which Darren doesn’t quite understand. Those aren’t a big deal; Darren’s got some too, if Chris is talking about what Darren thinks he’s talking about. He tries a joke to lighten the mood. “Extra appendages?” Darren asks. “I’m guessing you don’t mean, like, more cocks?” 

It works well enough that Chris relaxes back into the pillows. “No. I mean like tentacles,” he says matter-of-factly.

Darren brightens. Yup, they are definitely talking about the same thing. “No shit? We’ve got tentacles too! They’re not, like, sexy though.”

“I’m not sure I would describe ours as _sexy_ ,” Chris comments. 

“ _Used for_ sex,” Darren retorts with a roll of his eyes. “You just told me that. We don’t have sex with ours, exactly. And as far as whether yours are sexy or not, why don’t you let me be the judge of that... show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” 

Chris makes a noise of surprise. “Oh, you’ve still got yours?” He sweeps one broad palm searchingly over Darren’s back and along his side. “I wouldn’t have guessed. You hide them well.” 

“So do you,” Darren says. “I guess — assuming you’ve still got yours too?” 

“I do,” Chris confirms, and after a moment’s pause, he moves to put some space between their bodies and slides them out. There are five on each side of his body, in a neat line on either side of his torso. They’re probably about as long as Darren’s, but thinner and somehow more graceful. “The middle ones are the, uh — the sex ones.” 

“Awesome,” Darren says. His tuck into his back, and he extends them, one each from just inside his shoulder blades. They’re thick where they leave his body and taper to narrower points. “It’s just these two.” 

“So they’re just like… extra arms?” Chris asks, looking at them curiously. “If you don’t use them to reproduce, I mean.”

Darren stretches his tentacles, which just feels really fucking good since he spends so much time with them curled away. “We do use them to make babies, but seriously, it’s, like, one step above asexual reproduction. The female makes the sac, and we tuck one of these puppies inside and spray some shit around. It’s nothing that we do for pleasure.”

“Sounds lovely,” Chris drawls. They look at each other for a minute and then Chris adds, “I’m going to just… put these back away.” The tentacles suck quickly back into his sides, and Darren feels kind of weird being the only one with them hanging out, so he retracts his too. 

Chris doesn’t seem like he’s in any hurry to leave the bed, though, so Darren lets himself get comfortable again. “So, what about for you?” he asks. “How does that compare to Stellaen sex?” 

“Um.” Chris squirms. “I don’t... actually know. I never had it.” 

Darren blinks up at the ceiling, surprised. “Never?”

Chris fidgets again before he answers. “I was targeted for the Earth mission early on, so by the time anyone was interested in doing anything like that, I was already going through the biogenetic process to take a humanoid form. So nobody really wanted to. With me. Because I wasn’t — the same.” There’s a quick, awkward pause, and then he rushes on: “Which is why no one should be allowed to make decisions like this before they reach Maturity. No chance of getting laid.”

“That fucking sucks, man,” Darren says, flopping his head to the side to look at Chris. Chris doesn’t look back. “Just being different isn’t a reason to — I mean, unless they changed you so you’re physically unable to…?”

“No,” Chris interjects. “Uh — no, that’s not a problem.”

“Then it’s just bullshit,” Darren mutters. He takes a deep breath, because a lot of things are clicking into place. Why Chris has always been so uneasy talking about sex, whether it’s sex on Earth or sex anywhere. “Sooo… does that mean that this was the first sex you’ve ever had? At all?”

Chris doesn’t sound excited to answer the question, but he does. “Yeah, that is what this means.” 

“Fuck, Chris —” Darren props himself up on one elbow “—why didn’t you tell me? We could have done something… I don’t know. Nicer.” 

“I thought this was nice,” Chris says, and he truly doesn’t seem upset. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. I wanted to do it.” 

“Oh, you did, huh?” Darren asks, scooting a little closer. 

“Obviously. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

Darren reaches out and skims his fingertips along Chris’s arm, raising goosebumps. “Why did you want to?”

Chris glares over at him. “Maybe I was just curious.” 

“Is that all?” Darren asks. 

He keeps tracing over Chris’s bicep, and color rises in Chris's face. “Are you actually going to make me say it?” 

“Say what?”

Chris lets out a long-suffering sigh. “That I’m attracted to you?” 

Darren grins; he can’t help it. He leans over Chris’s chest and cups his head in one hand. “I’ll take it,” he says, and muffles Chris’s retort with a kiss. 

*

For as much time as they’re spending together, and as much as they’re — whatever they are — Darren is surprised to see Chris walk into the restaurant before breakfast service is over. Chris keeps odd hours, and unless they’re waking up in the same bed, which has actually happened a couple of times now, Darren doesn’t usually see him until after noon. He’s taking an order when Chris arrives, but everyone knows well enough to put Chris in Darren’s section now, so he swings by Chris’s table as soon as he can. 

“Hey, early riser,” he says cheerfully, but he sobers a little when he sees Chris’s face. “What’s going on?”

Chris looks — rattled. He barely manages a wan smile in response to Darren’s greeting, and it’s more of a grimace than anything else. “Something — something happened. I need to talk to you. When does your shift end?”

“Not for another two and a half hours. But I can try to call someone and see if they can cover. Lisa owes me —” He shuffles half a step back, his body already moving toward the phone.

“No,” Chris rushes out. “No, it’s not — it’s not _that_ urgent. Can we talk after though?”

“Are you sure?” Darren asks. “Because your face is kinda telling a different story.” 

Chris takes a deep breath, settling himself, and nods. “It can wait a couple of hours. And since I’m here, maybe I can finally try that famous stuffed French toast in the meantime?”

Darren is still a little uneasy, but Chris looks calmer, which makes him _feel_ calmer. “That sounds like an awesome plan. Do you want anything to drink? Diet Coke doesn’t pair that well with breakfast.” There are a few human vices that Chris has picked up, and diet soda ranks high among them.

The joke is lame, but he’s rewarded when one corner of Chris’s mouth twitches up. “I beg to differ, but I’ll take an orange juice.” 

“One OJ, coming right up,” Darren announces, and he leans over to give Chris’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before he bustles away. 

It’s a busy morning leading into a busy lunch, and Darren doesn’t have much opportunity to stop at Chris’s table more than basic standards of restaurant service allow. He sneaks a lot of peeks, and sees that Chris has his tablet computer in hand, but that he’s mostly staring off into the distance instead of looking at it. Darren frowns. 

He also doesn’t like it when Chris readies himself to leave after he’s done eating. Darren _does_ manage to get to his table then. “Wait, aren’t you going to hang out?” 

“You need the table,” Chris points out. “I’ll just kill sometime and meet you in the lobby when you’re done.” 

“Are you sure?” Darren presses.

A crease appears on Chris’s forehead. “Yes, I’m sure. What are you so worried about?” 

Darren shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I just — I don’t want you to do anything drastic.” 

“Drastic? Like what?”

“Leave.” 

“Oh,” Chris says, and his cheeks tint pink. He gives Darren a tiny smile. “Don’t worry; I’m not going anywhere.” 

Darren’s still concerned, but he feels warmed a little, deep inside, and the start of a grin blooms on his own face. “Good.” 

They look at each other for a moment. “Okay,” Chris announces, falsely bright and maybe a bit flustered. “You have to get back to work, and I’ll meet you after.”

“I’ll, uh — I’ll see you then,” Darren agrees. He watches Chris walk away, kind of confused and kind of happy, and then he remembers that he’s worried too, and he doesn’t snap out of it until Julio, one of the other servers, ambles by and smacks his shoulder. 

“He’s got a great ass, loverboy, but table eight needs refills,” he hisses, and Darren jumps into action. 

*

When he finally escapes the restaurant, Darren finds Chris sitting on a chair in the lobby, browsing idly and rapidly through what looks like a news website on his tablet. He glances up as Darren approaches and shuts it off, dropping it into his satchel. “Hey.”

“Hey again,” Darren says. “Do you want to talk here, or —?”

Chris glances around. “Let’s walk.” 

It’s a beautiful day outside, sunny and warm. The streets are busy, and Darren leads them in the direction of Virginia Highlands Park. He expects Chris to launch into an explanation of what’s bothering him, but they travel the first half block or so in silence. “Soooo,” Darren finally starts. “What’s up?” 

Chris’s eyes are hidden behind sunglasses, and his face remains expressionless. He takes a deep breath. “I got a communication from my mother and… my sister.” 

“Oh,” Darren replies, surprised. “I guess I just assumed you were talking to them, you know, on the regular. I hear from my family every few Earth weeks.” 

“No.” Chris shakes his head. “I only communicate with my mission leaders.” 

Darren is momentarily stunned into silence. “But you’ve been on Earth for months. And how long did it take you to get here? You haven’t talked to them since you _left_?”

“Well…” Chris hedges. “They allowed us a few minutes before I left the planet, but I haven’t spent much time with them since I started the last phase of my training.” 

“What the _fuck?_ ” Darren exclaims, and Chris shushes him, nodding toward a passing family. “Seriously! They cut you off from your family?”

Chris crosses his arms over his stomach. “Training is… intensive. You have to devote your entire life to it. You of all people should know how how hard it is to learn everything about being human — there’s so much! The language and the customs and the mannerisms, not to mention the politics and even navigating a ship. It’s not something you can just… pick up in a couple of hours.”

“I know,” Darren says, “but I got to talk to my family and friends while I was doing it. That’s just bullshit.” 

“Can we just get back to the point?” Chris grinds out.

“Okay, okay. Sorry,” Darren mutters. “So anyway, you heard from your mom.”

Chris nods and loosens his grip on his torso. “I’m not sure how they even got it to me. It showed up as a file on my laptop when I started it up this morning.”

He lapses into silence, staring down at his sneakers, and Darren can’t help but get anxious after a few seconds. “And — and what? Was it bad news?”

“No, actually,” Chris says. “It was good news. Really good news. Darren, there’s something I haven’t told you. About why I’m here.”

“Just spit it out, man. You’re killing me here.”

Chris heaves another lungful of air. “All right. You know all the times you’ve tried to talk me out of — doing what I’m here to do?” 

“Sure do!” Darren chirps.

“Well… I haven’t been excited about doing this mission in a long time. Maybe ever. I know there are some serious moral issues with the whole thing, but I _had_ to do it, because one of the people who was sick with the disease was — my sister.” Chris’s arms go tight again.

“Chris —”

“I couldn’t let her _die_!” he exclaims. “You don’t understand what it was like! My life wasn’t like yours. I didn’t have any friends, except for her. I was already in training, because I just wanted to get the _hell_ off that planet, and then when I found out she had been diagnosed? I would have done _anything_ to make sure she would be okay. Anything,” he finishes quietly.

“Chris,” Darren repeats, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to explain that to me. I have a brother, you know. If it were him… I’d be willing to go to some drastic measures too.” 

They continue in silence for a few steps, until Darren takes his hand back, because it’s kind of awkward to walk that way. Chris clears his throat. “That’s what the good news is,” he says. “She’s getting better.”

Darren brightens. “Really? That’s awesome! …Why don’t you sound happier about it?”

“I’m very happy about it,” Chris claims, though his tone is definitely subdued. “But… no one else told me about it.” Darren frowns, and starts to interject, but Chris goes on. “She’s not just getting better on her own. They have… they have a cure. Maybe that’s too strong of a word, but they have something that’s _working_. And no one told me about it.” 

They cross into the park, and there’s sunshine and birds chirping and children playing, but Darren feels cold and sick inside. “Maybe it’s — maybe it’s new,” he suggests, not believing it himself, but he doesn't really want to face the alternative. “What’s the last time you were in communication with your people?”

“Five days ago,” Chris says quietly. 

There’s a lot that Darren _wants_ to say, but he manages to keep it to, “Oh.”

“Five days ago and they _didn’t say anything_ ,” Chris seethes. “Meanwhile, I’m still here brokering this deal for humans. _Hundreds_ of humans, that they’re going to do who _knows_ what with. I wasn’t sure about this when I thought it was for a good cause, and now… god.” He shakes his head. “I know they did experiments in the past, but I thought things had _changed_. I — I don’t want to be a part of that.”

Darren leads him toward a bare stretch of grass. “You’re upset,” he says. “Let’s sit.” 

Chris follows distractedly. “I can’t _believe_ this. This means we all got fed lies for _years_. For my entire life! I decided to do this when I was practically still a _kid_.” 

“Okay, well, maybe they did have good intentions when they sent you here,” Darren says, feeling completely magnanimous. “And they’re just waiting to… call you back, or something.” Once the words are out, he realizes that he doesn’t like the sound of that at all.

From behind his sunglasses, Chris shoots him a side-eyed glance. “Why are you giving them the benefit of the doubt? You hate us.”

“I don’t _hate_ you,” Darren argues, and Chris’s expression goes more incredulous. “I don’t! I don’t hate _you_.”

Chris turns back to watch a pig-tailed girl kicking a soccer ball. “I just spoke with them a few days ago. If they were going to call me back, don’t you think they would have done it then?”

“Maybe they just found out that it’s working?” 

“That’s not what Mom said.” Chris shakes his head. “My sister started treatments a while ago — several Earth months. She’s been improving steadily since then.” 

“Well — are you sure it was really from them?” Darren asks. “There’s no chance it was fake? Planted? What if this is some kind of test?”

The girl kicks the ball with a resounding _thwack_. “No,” Chris says. “It was real. There were things that she said to prove it was her; no one else would have known. I think — they must have sent it on purpose. I mean, to let me know about my sister, of course, but to let me know that what I’m doing is… is wrong.”

Darren slides one hand across the grass and tentatively takes Chris’s. “Hey, don’t feel so bad. You didn’t know.” 

Miraculously, after a few seconds, Chris’s fingers tighten around his. “But I do now. And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now that I know.” 

And Darren knows exactly what _he_ thinks Chris should do, but he knows Chris well enough by now to know that it won’t do any good to say it. “What do you _want_ to do?”

Chris is quiet for several moments, long enough that the woman who must be soccer girl’s mom stands from a nearby bench and leads her away despite her protests. “I don’t want to go through with it,” Chris finally admits. “It’s a shitty thing to do, especially when there’s no good reason.” 

Darren squeezes his hand. “Then don’t.”

“You say that like it’s so simple,” Chris snaps, but there’s not a lot of heat behind it. “I can’t just pack up and go home. I can’t even imagine what they’d do to me when I got back.”

“So —” Darren takes a deep breath, because he’s about to put it all out there “— don’t go home.” 

He can feel Chris’s shock in his silence and the way he goes totally still. “But I… have to go back. What choice do I have?”

Darren’s heart is thudding against his ribcage. “You could stay here. On Earth. With me.” 

Chris’s hand is totally slack in his, which Darren realizes probably isn’t a great sign. Neither is the blank look that he’s giving Darren. “What are you talking about? You’re staying here?”

With a solemn nod of his head, Darren says, “Yeah, I am. I — shit.” He drops Chris’s hand to rub tiredly at his face. “You were right, and it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. We’re just going to fuck this planet over if we take any of their fossil fuels, and I know that we would take too much. They’ve told me what they want, and it’s too fucking much. I can’t do it. So I’m not going to.”

“But —” Chris sputters, “but what about your people? What about your _family_?”

“We have scout teams all over the fucking place,” Darren grumbles. “They’ll find some hunk of rock where they can get what they need and not take down an entire civilization. I heard there’s a squad right over in Andromeda that’s having good luck. As for my family, they’re part of an experimental colony on a moon two planets over. They’ll be fine until Min Gefara gets their shit figured out.” 

“Aren’t you afraid that they’re going to — track you down? Do something drastic?” Chris asks.

Darren just shrugs. “It’s a big planet. I’ll ditch everything they could use to find me. And they’ll be pissed, but I think they’ll get over it and leave me alone after a while.”

“I don’t know if Stellae will afford me the same courtesy,” Chris says, and pauses. “You’re really going to do it.”

“I’m really going to do it,” Darren confirms. “After one of my next couple comm calls, I’m just going to fucking _go_. I can’t wait.” 

Chris is quiet, staring down at his hands in his lap. “It would be crazy of me to just decide to do that so quickly. It’s a huge, _huge_ decision, and we’ve only known each other for a couple of months. It would be crazy.” 

Darren lifts one shoulder. “Maybe.” He doesn’t push, and Chris doesn't say anything else right away.

It really is a gorgeous afternoon, and Darren tilts his face up to the sun, enjoying it. Min Gefara is a beautiful planet, but they never quite have days like this. They’re a little too far from their sun, and it’s something that Darren’s always going to relish about making Earth his home — lifting his head, feeling the warmth heat his skin. He breathes deep, again and again, and tries not to imagine how lonely it will feel now if Chris isn’t there with him.

“Maybe,” Chris echoes, like no time has passed since Darren last spoke. “But it’s what I’m going to do.”

Darren takes one more grateful breath and opens his eyes, turning to Chris. He looks worried, but resolute. “Chris. You don’t have to decide right now,” he says, even though he basically _loves_ Chris’s decision and wants to set it in granite or marble, maybe carve it into one of the monuments.

“But I just did,” Chris says, and Darren makes a delighted noise, takes Chris’s face in his hands, and kisses him soundly.

*

They pick a mid-sized city in the Midwest, because they figure anyone who might be looking for them will check the metropolises on the opposite coast, or maybe on the other side of the world: huge, far-flung populations where they might be able to disappear. They know that the choice comes with its own set of challenges, including the political ones; here, they are two men, and those big cities might offer more safety in other ways.

“This will probably just be temporary,” Chris says.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Darren replies. He’s not married to the idea of _anywhere_ , but he doesn’t want to jump ship every six months either. He likes Chris. He wants to make a home with Chris. He’s afraid he’s always going to be the more sentimental of the two of them.

The move comes fast once the plans are in place. They pack up what they own and leave behind anything that could track them — communication devices and everything from their home planets and something that Chris extracts from under the skin of his shoulder that Darren doesn’t want to know anything else about, because it makes him feel sick, that it was there in the first place and however Chris got it out.

They arrive at their new apartment on an unseasonably warm fall day, and they’re dripping with sweat by the time they have everything in, order pizza, and turn on the rattling wall air conditioners. Chris covers the bare mattress with a fitted sheet while Darren showers, then takes his turn in the bathroom while Darren stretches out naked on the empty bed, pillowing his head on a towel so his hair can drip and shivering while the too-cold air dries his body. He hears Chris turn off the shower and pad down the hall to turn off the AC in the living room, then he comes into the bedroom to do the same. “I’ll never be able to sleep with those things on,” he complains. 

Darren angles his head up. “You want to sleep?” he asks. 

Chris pauses at the foot of the bed. “You can’t be serious. Aren’t you tired?”

He is, but he’s also naked and goosebumpy, and Chris is damp-haired and all but naked, and Darren’s cock is already going chubby. So he shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind christening the new place. Especially since we haven’t really done it since before we decided to take off. And we can sleep as late as we want tomorrow.”

Darren’s pretty sure that Chris isn’t convinced, but then he drops his towel and says, “Those aren’t _bad_ arguments,” and climbs over Darren’s body on the mattress.

Chris’s skin is still warm from the shower, and Darren groans when they press together everywhere. He wraps his arms around Chris’s back and opens his thighs, inviting Chris to settle in and weigh him down, and Chris does, all the way from his dick going hard next to Darren’s to the place where their mouths are meeting in a kiss that’s deep from the start. It presses Darren’s head back into the towel his mouth is full of Chris’s tongue. 

It seems like maybe that’s all it’s going to be when Chris’s hips start up a slow rocking motion — just languid and damp, kissing and rutting together until they get off. Darren runs his hands down to get both hands on Chris’s ass, encouraging him to go a little faster, a little harder, and then he lets them slide back up, dipping briefly over Chris’s sides. They feel minutely different now that Darren knows what’s there, like Chris's ribs are sharper than most people’s. Darren remembers seeing them, remembers what they’re for, lets his fingers trip over the hidden openings in Chris’s skin again.

Chris makes an aggrieved noise and pulls away from Darren’s mouth. “Stop, that tickles,” he mutters, before he goes right back to kissing Darren and grinding against him. 

Darren keeps his hands where they are and hums into Chris’s mouth until Chris releases him again. “You should get them out,” he says, without any forethought.

“What?” Chris whispers. His hips go still. 

“They feel good for you, right?” Darren asks, his voice low and his heart pounding. “Let me touch them.” He rubs over Chris’s sides and feels the flesh there give just slightly as Chris shudders. 

Then he feels the slide of skin, unexpectedly sending a wave of heat right down to his gut, and Chris reminds him, “The middle ones.” Like Darren needed a reminder. 

He touches Chris’s tentacles gently at first, caressing his fingers over the places where they emerge from Chris’s body. The junctures are smooth, like they're always there, and the tentacles themselves are hot, _temperature_ hot, warm under Darren’s hands, and smooth. Chris doesn’t kiss him again right away, just waits, breathing harshly against Darren’s cheek, and when Darren drags his fingertips over the base of the third tentacle down — the middle one — he gasps and jerks and Darren feels, where they’re pressed together, a wet spurt of precome from Chris’s cock. “Fuck,” Darren whispers.

“No one,” Chris pants, “no one’s ever touched them before. Except me.” 

“Fuck,” Darren repeats almost breathlessly. “Chris.” He curls his hand around the tentacle and strokes along the length of it. 

Chris’s entire body is trembling, and he swears through clenched teeth when Darren grips him more firmly. The tentacle is too long to treat _exactly_ like a dick, but Darren sets up a steady rhythm as he jacks the first few inches of it, and he slips his other hand back to Chris’s ass, urging him to move again. Their mouths meet sloppily, and Darren thinks now that this is going to be it, how it’s going to happen, with a tentacle handjob and some dry humping, which is more than enough, but Chris tears himself back out of the kiss. “Want more,” he says, all breath. “Feels good, but fuck me. While you do that.” 

It’s Darren’s turn to stop in surprise. “But aren’t you tired?” he teases. 

“Shut up,” Chris mutters. “Not anymore.” He slides off of Darren’s body and props himself up on the mattress, elbows and knees, and a few of his tentacles drag over Darren’s belly, coil around his dick and then slip back off. “Or don’t you want to?” 

“Want to,” Darren says quickly, scrambling up. He eyes the boxes stacked haphazardly along the wall. “Do you remember where we packed some lube?” 

Chris snorts. “Darren,” he scoffs, and Darren feels the wet glide of a tentacle over his thigh. “Use your imagination.”

“Oh, _duh_ ,” Darren huffs as he repositions himself behind Chris. “Well, pardon me for being a little fucking distracted.” It’s even more distracting with Chris in front of him, from his rounded ass _right there_ , to the smooth long line of his back leading to his head, propped comfortably on arms and tentacles. Darren rests his palms hot on Chris’s cheeks and pulls them apart, and suddenly there’s a dripping tentacle there to help, sliding wetly into the crack. 

Darren eyes it speculatively, then leans over to run his tongue over it, tracing along where it’s nestled snugly in, and Chris groans. The fluid leaking from it tastes tangy, sharper than human come — not bad at all, Darren thinks. He lifts the tentacle and sucks the tip of it into his mouth. “Shit, Darren,” Chris breathes, and repeats himself more harshly when Darren uses it to wet his fingers and starts circling one against Chris’s hole at the same time. 

It’s different, and it’s so hot, sucking Chris’s tentacle to make it leak, pushing the fluid dripping from it into Chris’s ass to lube him up and stretch him out. Darren switches it up every so often, pulling his mouth away from the tentacle to lick over Chris’s hole, probe his tongue inside. It takes him longer than it should to realize that Chris is holding himself open and bared to Darren’s ministrations with two tentacles, but when he does, Darren reaches a freed hand around to fist Chris’s cock, finds it thick and hard.

He catches his own name, and realizes distractedly that Chris is trying to get his attention: “Darren. Fuck! _Darren_.” 

“Hmmm?” he replies distractedly, replacing his tongue with a few fingers that slide in easily on Chris’s own slickness.

“What if you… use yours too?” Chris asks. 

Darren rubs his fingertips over Chris’s prostate. “What?” he says. “My — tentacles?” 

“Yes!” Chris exclaims, and Darren isn’t sure whether that’s an answering yes or a sex yes, but he tentatively starts sliding them out, feeling his shoulderblades flex.

“They’re not the same as yours,” he cautions. “It’s like having extra hands, not extra cocks.” 

Chris huffs. “That means they can be useful, doesn’t it?” 

“I suppose it does,” Darren says. He reaches out with his tentacles and rubs them over the slippery mess he’s making of Chris’s ass. He twines the leftmost one with Chris’s sex tentacle, wetting it further, before leaning forward far enough to wrap the end of it around Chris’s erection. The other one he moves — away. He watches to see if Chris notices that he starts working it up in between his own ass cheeks, and he lets out a heated, relieved breath when it presses against his hole.

And Chris is oblivious, rocking back against Darren’s fingers and thrusting forward into the tentacle circling his dick. “I’m ready,” he’s saying, and the words ping belatedly for Darren. “ _Ungh_ … Darren? I’m ready.” 

“Okay, okay, fuck,” Darren breathes and moves back, which just makes him bear down harder on his own tentacle. He jerks forward again to rut into Chris’s crack a few times, getting himself wet. “Okay,” he repeats, more to himself than to anyone else, lining up the head of his cock with Chris’s hole, pushing a little to feel it give. 

“Just _do it_ ,” Chris growls. 

Darren chuckles and leans forward to kiss Chris’s spine. “Bossy.”

“ _Darren_.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, and thrusts in with a grunt. He makes quick work of seating himself deep, and then pauses for a few seconds to pant. “Are you sure you’re ready?” 

Chris groans. “Darren, for the love of _fuck_ —” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Darren interjects, grabbing one of Chris’s sex tentacles and bringing it around to the back of his body. He slides his tentacle out of his body and presses Chris’s against his hole. 

With a shaky breath, Chris mumbles, “Oh, holy shit.” 

“Put it in,” Darren begs him. “Just put it the fuck in.” He pulls his hips back, then jolts them forward, burying his cock in Chris's ass again. Chris’s tentacle follows the motion, pushing up to breach Darren's entrance, and Darren moans heavily. 

Chris does too, and then says, “I’m going to last about thirty seconds like this.” 

“Don’t fucking care,” Darren says, and tightens the tentacle he’s got circled around Chris’s cock. “Really don’t.” It's not like he's in any better shape. It’s a lot: his dick in Chris’s ass, Chris’s tentacle in his, and his wrapped around Chris’s thick erection — they’re both fucking each other and being fucked at the same time, and Chris gets the extra bonus of being jerked off too. Darren balances on all his free arms and tentacles and starts rocking into Chris’s body; every stroke pushes Chris’s cock forward through his grip, and every backswing throws his body against the tentacle in his ass. It’s a lot to coordinate, and it’s kind of jerky and unsteady, but more than that it’s totally fucking _overwhelming_ — feeling all the places that they’re connected, in and around each other, and _knowing_ that they’re fucking each other in so many ways all at once. 

Darren feels like he’s soaked in sweat and whatever is flowing out of Chris’s tentacles — that shower is looking pretty useless now — and he can’t stop groaning or swearing, and fuck, he hopes these walls are thicker than they look. Chris isn’t keeping quiet either, but he’s mostly muffling himself into his arm and the mattress. He does give a sharp cry as Darren picks up the pace, moving in quick, precise jerks of his hips while he still can. Darren responds with a loud _huh_ of his own when one of Chris’s tentacles snakes across his chest and flicks over his peaked nipples. He’d wanted to suck Chris’s other sex tentacle, but he doesn’t know where it is, and he can’t focus enough to find it. The question is answered a few seconds later, when it joins his tentacle on Chris’s cock, slicking the slide of it.

For a few glorious moments, it’s perfect: everything works in rhythm and pleasure sizzles through Darren’s body in echoing waves, throbbing where his ass is stuffed full and his cock is pumping into the tight sheath of Chris’s body. Chris’s free tentacles pet over his body, his back and nipples and balls, and then it all starts to fall apart spectacularly. Darren’s hips snap out of time as he gets rockets towards his release, and Chris is moaning, continuous and loud, his mouth open to the thickening air surrounding them. 

“Fuck, Chris, are you close?” Darren manages to get out, because Chris _has_ to come first. Darren’s going to fucking collapse as soon as he blows, and he wants to make sure that they both get off. 

“Really close,” Chris grits, and Darren clenches his teeth and drives in, jerks Chris’s cock, squeezes his ass around the tentacle stroking into it, and Chris _shouts_. His body jerks and his cock spills, and Darren feels the tentacle that’s fucking him go stiff, then gush fluid into his ass. Thank _god_.

Darren grabs Chris’s hips, jerking Chris back onto his cock two, three more times — and feels the orgasm crash into him, harder than any he’s felt in all his time on Earth. He comes inside of Chris’s body, shaking, grinding his hips desperately against Chris’s ass. The tentacle inside him is relentless, rubbing over his prostate, milking pleasure out of him for as long as possible, until Darren can barely hold himself up on his loosening limbs and gasps, “Stop, stop, fuck.” 

He pulls out and Chris pulls out, and Darren just kneels there, panting and trembling, surprised to feel an unfamiliar pressure in his tentacles. “Everything okay?” Chris mumbles, from his prone position on the mattress. 

“I think…” Darren pauses, heaving for breath and assessing the situation. “I think… my tentacles need to blow? Usually I have to, uh — decide that I want that to happen, but they are definitely ready to go. Maybe it’s because that was so fucking…” His voice trails away, because he can’t even find a word for what that was. 

“Yeah,” Chris agrees. “You want to just do it on me?” 

Darren almost does, just hearing him say it. “Yeah, I really want to do that.” 

“Go ahead,” Chris offers, spreading his legs a little wider. 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Darren groans. He brings his tentacles to the front of his body, and it only take a few squeezes and pulls before they’re spurting onto Chris’s ass, all over his cheeks and his reddened hole. Darren manages to hold himself up until it’s over, and then he flops bonelessly down beside Chris on the mattress. “Holy. Fucking. Wow.”

“Do you think the apartment is sufficiently christened now?” Chris asks. His voice sounds breathy, and Darren looks over to see that he’s cleaning himself out with a tentacle. Darren groans.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d say so,” he answers. 

Chris finishes up and rolls tin his direction, nudging Darren up onto his side and spooning him, wrapping him up in arms and tentacles. Darren tangles his into the mix. He’d try to move them out of the wet spot, but most of the bed is a wet spot, so he just tries to ignore it. One of Chris’s tentacles starts to pet soothingly through his damp hair.

“Hey, Chris?” 

“Yeah?”

“I liked that. Did you like that?”

Chris chuckles quietly into the back of his shoulder. “I’m not sure why you’d need to ask that. Yeah, I liked it.” 

“No, I mean…” Darren considers what he’s trying to say. “Every other time, we were just having human sex. This was having sex… like _us_.” 

There’s a heavy moment of silence, then Chris replies, quietly, “I like that too.” 

Darren hums and kisses the tentacle closest to his mouth. 

“Humans _wish_ they could have sex that good,” Chris adds, and they both start to laugh, hushed and giddy in the dark.

*

Three-quarters of a year later, on another warm night, this time in spring, they wander out to the wide lawn between the rows of apartment buildings, so different from living in a big city, and lie in the wet grass, looking up at the stars overhead. They both know there’s a lot out there that they can’t see: their families, out of reach but safe, and Darren knows that they’re going to find a way to get back in touch eventually; planets and ships, swinging through the space between the pinpricks of light that looks so empty and cold. They feel safer now, less like they’re hiding and more like they’re living.

“Do you miss it?” Darren asks in a murmur. He lets his hand crawl across the space between them to tangle their fingers together.

“No,” Chris says back, low. “I think I like it here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ♥ Link to tumblr post [here](http://luckiedee.tumblr.com/post/132385445462/i-like-it-here-crisscolfer-fic).


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